Mountain Hiking

Lake Dorothy and Satanta Peak,
A Little Solitude Off A Popular Trail

Arapaho Pass Trail, looking west

Alpine Blooms below trail (click for enlargement)

The Arapaho Pass Trail runs parallel to the North Fork of Middle Boulder Creek almost at the tree line on the north side of the valley. The fir and spruce are more dense at first but become scattered, framing open alpine meadows. There was a broad sweep of yellow blooms along a slender stream, a sprinkling of lavender Elephant’s Head, a patch of purple Mountain Harebell, and some white button mushrooms. On the far side of the valley, there were still a few bright patches of snow tucked into sheltered nooks and on north-facing slopes and shining ribbons of falling water. 

I climbed a little more than a mile and about 1,000 feet to a broad area of open tundra. Rocky rivulets trickled across the area and then fell over a lip to plunge into the valley below. There were pools of clear water flanked by hummocky grass, shrubby mounds scattered across the clearing, and stunted trees around its edge. Then rough talus rose up to the north and west. Higher up reached the gray cliffs of South Arapaho Peak. There were reddish cliffs, rubbly couloirs, talus slopes, and of course many other peaks reaching up. 

The trail slabs across exposed talus after about two miles. There were only a few stunted trees here, tucked behind ridges of rock and in other protected pockets. But the lichens were growing everywhere, on every surface — all shades of green: lime, gray, orange. And there were red-gray crusts with no hint of green, yellow-orange, and dark charcoal gray. It was an area of tumbled, jagged, inhospitable rock, but there was life everywhere. There were thistles aswarm with honeybees, an isolated butterfly, and the jerky squeak of a pika with its teddy bear ears. 

After about three miles and at 11,906 feet, I stood on Arapaho Pass and looked northwest to Satanta Peak, west of the Divide. Looking at Satanta doesn’t give you the fearful thrill that some of the peaks on the Divide do, but I figure that any mountain that has a name is well worth the climb, so I turned left onto Caribou Trail. 

Lake Dorothy

There are a couple of unmarked intersections and trails that will take you over to Lake Dorothy, nestled at the base of Mt. Neva. The water there sparkled, a gray-green, and was backed by steep snow banks and talus and the faint rushing of meltwater. I settled onto a comfortable rock chair and had some lunch. 

Caribou Pass is the low point between Neva and Satanta, and the trail clings to the steep, northern slopes of Neva, curving high above Caribou Lake, on its green and moist plateau. Sometimes, it’s clear that these “trails” were once roads. The trail is narrow and precipitous in one spot — I had to focus to keep my footing, and I was glad that I don’t suffer from vertigo. But a little later, the way widened out. Some kind of cart or wagon could have passed here. Then I came to a switchback curve that was 20 feet wide with fitted rock walls to hold the switch from falling into the back. Rocks had tumbled over the years, filling in the inner part and eating away at the outer, but I could still imagine people not just wandering and playing up here but truly working. 

At Caribou Pass, I turned off the main trail and climbed the grassy slopes of Satanta, stony and spotted with moss and lichen. The wind was strong out of the east, and gray clouds were gathering. On top, it felt like wilderness. I’d met several other hikers on the way up and on the Continental Divide itself, but here there was no one. There were peaks, cliffs, rocks, and valley — empty as far and wide as I could see.

Satanta Peak from the Continental Divide

Originally published in the
Daily Camera, p 6C, 9/12/2007.